An Underland Christmas Carol
by roughdiamond5
Summary: Gregor doesn't know it, but by neglecting the Underland, he has lost sight of himself. Can an old friend and three spirits save him before his regrets catch up to him? Based on Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol". BONUS STORY: How the Bane Stole Nibblers
1. Part One

**Please note that while I don't intend to make Gregor into a full Scrooge, he is going through a rather rough time, and so he will be lashing out a few times. Let's see if the ghosts can cure him of this horrible attitude, though, shall we?**

**Another note is that these chapters are, unfortunately, not as proofreaded as I would like. Along with that, I have not quite finished the story, as I would prefer to before I post. However, I would rather finish this story before Christmas than proofread and have it going into July, and so the story will be kept as is for the moment.**

**An Underland Christmas Carol: Part One**

Gregor sat on a bench, staring deep into nothing. Boots, now age four, had trudged as quickly as she could towards the hills of Central Park, but turned around when she was halfway there.

"Gregor," she said when she got within range, "sled with me."

"No, Boots."

"Yes."

"I told you when we left the apartment, I'm not going to sled. Just watch you."

"But you're not watching me." Boots slipped her gloved hand in his, and made to pull on it. "Please, Gregor?"

"No."

"It can be my Christmas present—"

"No! Go away, Boots, go sled without me!"

The words sounded harmless to him, but something in his tone was too harsh for Boots to handle. With watering eyes, she turned around and ran to the sledding hill as fast as her snow-clogged boots would let her.

Gregor put his head in his hands, with his exasperated sigh vanishing in a puff of vapor. At the moment, he couldn't even work up the guilt he'd need to speak with Boots later. He'd become increasingly good at swallowing any emotions over the past few months. And though he still had a long way to go, he'd at least been able to suppress memories too. It was as if his life had restarted from the moment he lifted himself out of the ground with his family, just a little way away from his bench here.

And now, with Dad and Grandma both in the hospital and his mom taking on a third job, all Gregor could think of was money. Money for food, money for clothes, money for school and rent and shoes and toiletries and hospital bills and utilities…money they just couldn't scrape together. Just two days ago, Mom hadn't eaten dinner so she could use the money for a math book Lizzie needed.

And now, here was Christmas coming up again. Even with Mom's extra job and Grandma's savings and Mrs. Cormaci's meals and cash and hand-me-downs, Boots and Lizzie weren't going to get anything but necessities for the season. Both girls pretended to be okay with this, but Gregor saw the way Lizzie's hand twitched towards puzzle books in the grocery store, and how Boots' eyes twinkled as she took in the decoration at her preschool. Gregor saw his grandma and his dad in their hospital rooms, coughing and trembling and hallucinating. And he saw his mom run her chapped fingers through her hair in worry as she pored over the bills; he'd overheard her talking to Mrs. Cormaci about relocating to a one-bedroom apartment closer to two of her jobs.

Gregor had gotten good at swallowing his emotions, but that didn't mean they didn't appear. It seemed like every day, something he saw or heard struck another dagger into his gut and carved a deeper hole in him. Maybe there was nothing left in him anymore. It'd certainly explain why he still didn't feel guilty for snapping at Boots. He was helpless enough without her pleading eyes asking things he couldn't give her. Like warm clothes. Or a decent Christmas.

Gregor lifted his head, squinting in the sunlight reflected off of a thousand banks of snow. If there was one thing he could do to help, it was make sure his sister was alive.

But it looked like Boots was making the job a little easier, because there she was, trotting towards him with her lime green coat standing out against the white snow. Gregor squinted. A much taller figure stumbled beside her.

Gregor wasn't sure he even wanted an answer as to who this person was. He only needed to know that this wasn't dangerous. Some instinct in him lifted him off the bench and pulled him through the snow, step by step until the shock made him stop. Because standing before him, holding Boots' hand, struggling to see in the blinding light was—

"Howard?"

Howard's purple eyes opened a little wider. "Gregor? Is that you?"

"…Well, yeah, but what are you—"

The rest of Gregor's question was lost in the bear hug that Howard gave him. Gregor found himself suspect to a huge range of emotions, all at once, on top of each other. But the one that overpowered everything else was something he almost didn't recognize: joy.

"Gregor, it is too much of a relief for me to have found you." Howard smiled broadly and held Gregor by the shoulders. Every time he tried to open his eyes, they clamped shut in pain. He shivered underneath his light, spider-spun clothes, and his feet shifted constantly in the snow. But Gregor couldn't remember Howard looking so happy in all the time he'd known him.

"He moved the rock all by himself!" Boots grinned beneath them. "And I found him!"

"Yes, I am incredibly lucky to have you, Boots. Both of you, actually." Howard turned to Gregor. "Have you been well?"

Gregor glanced between Howard and Boots. He couldn't—and would rather not—tell either of them about the struggles he faced every day. So instead, he said, "It's going. What about you?"

"It goes well. Peace is unstable, but growing stronger each day. Mostly it is due to Luxa. She and Ripred are making great strides to aid both humans and gnawers."

"That's…great, Howard. How about the Fount?"

"It houses refugees as we speak. The nibblers may soon be ready to leave entirely to a new settlement that Vikus has arranged for them."

"Vikus? He's okay?"

"He will not fully recover, but he fares better than we could imagine. His speech has nearly entirely returned. Sometimes Luxa and I speak for him, but…"

"What about Temp?" Boots asked. "Temp and Hazard? Did they come too?"

Howard smiled apologetically. "They did not. Nike and I have come alone, secretly."

"But why?" Gregor finally managed to voice the question that had been gnawing at him. Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that anything Underland that came here was a sure sign of trouble. Maybe a prophecy. Maybe just some really bad news. But whatever it was, the bad feeling that came with it was always the same, and it would come.

Howard paused. "I know that, with the war ended and the warrior killed, you have no place among us."

"Thanks."

"Wait, I mean only to say that, though I know of certain…reasons you should not stay in the Underland longer than necessary—" one of those reasons being Luxa, Gregor knew "—Nike and I feel that a contradiction may be in order."

"…Wait. Does this mean—?"

"We miss you, Gregor, and I venture to say we need you. But I do not mean as a warrior. You have befriended almost everyone you have met, and perhaps you know as well as I do that these ties cannot be forsaken.

"So I wish to ask you—you and your family—to return to the Underland. You may stay for as long or as short a time as you wish, but just one sight of you would be a great comfort to anyone. You have done so much for us, and we cannot ignore it. Please, Gregor, come back with me. You mean so much to all of us."

Gregor was silent. Boots looked on the verge of squealing "yes," but something in Gregor's expression stopped her.

"So," Gregor said, and his tone sounded icier than he had intended, "you miss us."

"We all do." Howard nodded.

"And things are going great. You just want us to come, just so you can be with us."

"Yes…"

"No prophecy or anything?"

"No, none. So will you?"

"I don't know," Gregor said. "First, I just want to know—what took you so long?!"

His voice carried across the snow they stood in, and several people turned to stare. Howard dropped his hands from Gregor's shoulders. "Gregor—"

"No, seriously, Howard. You're halfway to rebuilding Regalia, relocating thousands of mice, making peace between two species that've been fighting for centuries—and then you decide you _miss_ me? Well, I'm thrilled you could take time out of your schedules to remember someone who's supposed to have saved your lives and then died!

"Hey, while you're thinking about me, how about imagining what I'm going through? I have to pretend you don't exist—my scars, my friends, my bond—I'm not allowed to remember any of it! No, I haven't been working like you have, I've just been taking care of my two sisters while my dad and my grandma are in the hospital and my mom works three jobs for money we'll never get. Where were you when Mom gave her last blanket to Boots? Or when Lizzie couldn't pay for lunch at school and we had nothing to give her? Were you remembering? Well thanks, but we need a little more than friends right now!"

"Gregor!" Boots matched his tone. Gregor broke off and turned to her. His heart sunk; she was crying great big hiccupping tears, and when he reached for her, she yanked away. Howard simply stared at Gregor, a mix of confusion and pain on his face. But it was only when a tiny tear peeked out of his eye that Gregor knew he couldn't take it.

He turned on his heel and walked away. Howard might have called after him, but Gregor walked faster. When he hit the shoveled sidewalk, he sprinted as fast as his boots allowed him.

Boots…no matter how fast he ran, her sobs rang loud and clear in his head. He ran faster.

He tried to think—no, he didn't. He didn't want to know why he had yelled to Howard of all people, or why he lost control right then, or why he left them, or why he felt fully justified. He didn't want to know what he felt about it, for fear he might actually be happy. He just wanted to get away from it.

Somehow, he found himself in the stairwell in his apartment building at the same time as his energy sputtered and died. For the second time, he sat (this time on the steps) and put his head in his hands.

His mind practically shut down. He wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't.

When his eyes opened once more, he didn't know what was happening. In this area, the correct answer was most likely "nothing"; he was almost at the steps that led to the laundry room, and with the elevator working, no one was anywhere near the stairs. But Gregor felt something cold, something like a presence…

He sat up (he'd woken on his side) and slowly stood. With the electric light buzzing above him, he couldn't guess what time it was. Hopefully he could go get Boots from the park; or rather, he could pray it wasn't too late for that.

But before he could turn around, an unnatural something caught his eye: a shadow on the door to the laundry rom. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't a shadow of a bat. Its wings spread out, its back straight, its ears erect…and the closer Gregor got, the more detailed it became.

Despite himself, Gregor inched closer to the shadow until he could be sure that nothing was causing it. By now, he could see each fur clearly on the outline. The head seemed to be turned to one side, looking to the wall.

Gregor held up a finger to touch it. It was a shadow, after all, so he could. It was just that it looked so real, so real that he could almost see it breathe…

His finger was hardly a hair away when the shadow moved. The bat's head turned to look straight into Gregor's eyes, with an open mouth and two narrowed eyes outline in an orange like fire.

Gregor remembered that his feet hardly touched the ground as he ran off, but that was all he knew when he opened his eyes, heart racing, and found himself leaning against the door to his apartment. He panted for a moment, and then managed to call, "I'm home." Maybe it was his weak voice or the fact that it looked like nighttime, but no one answered.

He straightened, and only half of his muscles stayed tense. It was okay. He'd just…head into the kitchen. He was hallucinating because he was hungry and cold, so he'd make a hot chocolate. And he'd go get Boots from the park.

Gregor kept assuring himself it was alright, as he boiled down a watery hot chocolate and poured it in a thermos. But that rush of adrenaline never did go away. And he kept looking at the empty table behind him.

He stepped quickly through the dark hallway and to the door. He jiggled the handle once. Twice.

"Locked," he grumbled. He banged his fist against the wood uselessly. The lights in the kitchen—the only ones he left on—went out. The entire apartment was lit by the light from the streets below it.

"Really?" Gregor asked to the empty coat-hook next to him. "Really? I can't even leave? Are there rats in the walls?" He kicked the wall in front of him for good measure. "Well thanks, guys. Thanks a lot."

Off he stomped in his boots to the kitchen, where he poured himself some of his hot chocolate. The temperature seemed to have fallen drastically, here in the dark. And now Gregor couldn't help but think that that shadow of a bat had covered the while apartment.

A metallic clanging sound erupted from…where? It echoed throughout the kitchen, like a number of bells tolling, and rang through Gregor's bones. He clenched the thermos, making no sound of surprise. If he did, that might encourage it.

The clanging cut off. Gregor smirked, for a reason he didn't know. But the smirk lost its power as heavy, slow, thundering footsteps filled the hallway—the hallway nowhere near the front door, the hallway that no one was supposed to be in.

Thump. Gregor tensed. It sounded almost like a limp—thump—but how do you get a limp on both feet? Thump. Each footstep made the room a little colder. Thump. Gregor could see his breath. Thump. His hot chocolate was like ice in his hands.

Thump.

Gregor felt eyes on the top of his head as he looked down at his drink. With a mix of curiosity and dread, he looked up and took in the light blue, transparent, frost-like figure glowing in the doorway. Though he was wrapped in phosphorescent chains as pale as himself, Gregor could recognize the face, and could almost hear the way he said—

"Gregor."

All heat in the room evaporated, and with it, Gregor's voice. "Ares?" he croaked. "Ares, is that you?"

"It is," Ares said. His voice sounded distant, not like the low, rumbling pitch Gregor knew.

"…Can you sit?" he asked, gesturing to the available chair across the table from him.

"I can."

"Do it, then," he said, and watched the bat float into the kitchen without even a rustle of the wind. Just a moment ago, Ares had been limping with a terrible noise, but now…nothing. Not even an expression on his face; he looked as distant as he sounded. He was almost petrified, only allowing his waist to bend as he sat awkwardly. His wings didn't even twitch. Gregor eyed the chains, bound loosely around his chest and wings, and—

Gregor winced. The chains were long enough to drag on the kitchen time, and now screeched horribly as Ares pulled on them with his wings so he could sit more comfortably. The chains around his chest clinked, as if laughing at Gregor and his reaction.

"So…" Gregor wished he had something he could say. Considering how today's reunion with an old friend had gone, he didn't trust himself anymore.

"You want to know why I am here," Ares said calmly, vacantly.

"Uh…yeah, that works. I'd like to know how, too, but…"

"They are of my own making."

"What are?"

"These chains," Ares said, and gave his wings a shake. The clinking increased. "You have not taken your eyes off of them, and so I shall start with them."

"Are…are they real? I mean, do you feel anything?"

"I am as real as you remember me, but only in my senses. The chains drag at me, Gregor. I will never have true flight, for one link snags, and I am pulled down to walk until I limp."

"Walk where? Here?"

"Throughout the Underland."

"…And no one sees you? You just…what are you doing here, Ares? You're supposed to be—"

"I am surely dead, Gregor." Ares' voice got louder. The hot chocolate in Gregor's hands became literally solid with the chill. "The Bane has killed me, as you have killed him—"

"Wait, is he here too?"

"He resides where I—"

"Because I already saw Howard today, and no offense, but I can't take any more visits."

"I am afraid you will have to—"

"I mean, seriously, why does is have to be today when the whole Underland comes knocking at my—?"

"Listen to me!" Ares flew up from his chair and through the table to meet Gregor's eyes with the same glowing orange pupils that had haunted him in the basement. "Believe that I am here, and that I am here for a purpose worth more than you know! Do you doubt me? Do you still believe you are hallucinating? Am I another part of the Underland you wish to forget?"

"No! No, I believe you, I believe you!" Gregor flinched away from the burning eyes. "You're here, okay?"

Ares' face loomed overhead for a moment, and then he drifted back to his chair. "It has not been easy for me, as well." His voice was back to the low, quiet, somber tone. "I travel the Underland by an invisible force, never able to wander or rest. All the time I must carry these chains, as if the lives I saw every day were not enough. I have no peace."

"But why? You never did anything wrong, Ares."

"I did, and that grief is what holds me from something better." The chains on Ares' chest coiled around him ever so slightly. "I left our world with regrets still unsolved. I placed too much blame and too many duties on myself, each of which formed a link in my chains. I did not allow myself to be close to anyone—"

"But we were—"

"—except to protect them. I am sorry, Gregor, but I cannot trust. I can ignore people, or take care of them, but I can rarely find a middle ground. And as I have failed to do that, I must now watch others have what I did not."

"What's that?"

"Love."

"…Wow. Ares, I'm so sorry. If I knew…"

"No, Gregor, do not!" Ares' ears pricked up. He straightened, listened for a moment, and then slumped back down dejectedly. "It has happened again."

"What?"

"Another link has been added to your chain."

"My chain? Ares, you didn't tell me I have a—"

"That is what I am here for," Ares snapped, and his eyes flickered menacingly. "My time to leave grows closer, Gregor. I am lucky to have left the Underland at all, and if I leave without giving you my message, my chain will not be the only one lengthened.

"Listen closely. I come because, at the moment, your chain is even longer and heavier than mine. You, like I, have not looked past your regrets and failures. If this continues, you will wander as well, lost and weighed down and regretful. You will never rest, but will be forced to watch people, who have love and trust in their lives. And if you do not have it…"

Gregor already knew that longing feeling. It was why he'd stopped thinking about the Underland. "How do I stop this, Ares?" he asked softly.

"I cannot tell you. You are the one who must learn it for yourself."

Gregor nodded and looked into his mug.

"However," Ares said, "You have hope yet. You will be visited by three spirits, each more alive and more knowledgeable than I am. You must learn from them, in order to begin reversing the damage you have done to yourself."

"…Okay. Yeah, I can learn. Sure. Hey, Ares, do you think maybe they could all show up at once? I could get it over with."

"My time is nearly gone. But do not try to be in control, Gregor. Let them teach you in their own way." Ares jerked up from his seat, and Gregor took a moment to realize that the chains were erect towards one direction: the vent in the floor. Ares began to float towards it, but his face never left Gregor.

"Expect the first when the Overland clock strikes eleven," he said. "The second comes at midnight on the second night; the third spirit arrives at one."

Ares' feet were directly over the vent. As if a black hole had suddenly formed, first the bottommost chains were pulled into the grate, then Ares' feet. He would be gone in a minute; already he and Gregor saw eye to eye.

"Ares!" Gregor leaped up from the table and ran to his bond's side.

Ares looked up. "Gregor?"

What could he say? What would relieve Ares of at least a few chains?

Gregor's hand reached for Ares' claw—intact, in this spirit form—and they would have touched. "I couldn't have had a better bond."

A mix of surprise and joy flickered in Ares' eyes. And then he turned into vapor in the vent. Gregor stood and sat back down in his chair, looking at the vacant seat across from him. At some point, his frozen hot chocolate had grown a crack that divided the ice in two.

**Reviews? Questions? Wagers as to who the spirits will be?**


	2. Part Two

**My thanks to Kizanna the Underlander for her review!**

**I forgot to mention in the last author's note: for those of you that don't know, I hand-write all my chapters beforehand. This is why some parts may seem very clipped. Hopefully this is not noticeable and still enjoyable.**

**An Underland Christmas Carol: Part 2**

It didn't make sense to Gregor that he should wake up in his bed. He'd been sitting in the kitchen, extremely calm considering what had happened—

His eyes shot open. Ares! Ares had been here, was now gone…was he back again? In the room lit by streetlights, nothing glowed quite like Ares had. But someone had to have carried Gregor to bed. That meant someone had to be here, either now or earlier. Was the front door unlocked now? Or had this person been waiting for him?

Beneath Gregor's door, a faint glow emitted from one side and grew stronger, like a candle or flashlight would if it came closer. He leaned his head back, his eyes closed as if he hadn't been awake at all. His hopes were low that it was Mom, home from work with a flashlight.

For a moment, only cars rolling through the slushy streets were audible. And then, a soft voice. "Wake you, Overlander, wake."

Gregor sat up from underneath his thin blanket, and had to blink a few times to adjust to two things. The first was that the Underland type of cockroach was sitting patiently on the foot of his bed, its antennas turned to him attentively. The second was that it was glowing.

"Uh…hi." Gregor wished he could tell if he was supposed to know this cockroach, or even if it was a boy or a girl.

"Greetings to you, greetings." The roach bobbed its head.

"So…" Did he dare ask about the roach's glowing shell? It wasn't light blue or transparent like Ares, but more like a yellow or gold glow. The Underlanders would have been all over this sort of shiner-like light.

"Are you like Ares?" he asked finally. "Like, did you talk to him? Did he send you?"

"Ares did, did he. I be spirit of Underland past, I be. I be Tick, I be."

Gregor straightened. "Tick! Oh, man, Tick, Boots would be so happy to see you—"

"I come not for the princess, come not. I come for you, I come."

"…Oh. Okay, then. Is this part of me learning how to…?"

"I be spirit of Underland past, I be." Tick nodded.

"Okay, but are you going to help me with my…chain?"

"I be spirit of Underland past, I be," Tick insisted. She turned around and faced Gregor's door. "Ride you, ride? Run you, run?"

"Tick, the door's closed."

"Ride you, ride? Run you, run?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"Run you," Tick said, and phased through the door on her stubby legs.

Gregor thrust his legs over the side of the bed, opened the door, and ran out of the room right as Tick turned a corner. "Tick!" he called, and almost stumbled as he reached down to touch her glowing shell. "Tick, what are—"

A rush of wind ran through Gregor's hair and clothes, and suddenly he fell backwards, breaking contact with Tick's surprisingly warm shell. This was a place he recognized, and it wasn't home. It was—

A collection of stampeding, stomping, clicking legs resonated behind Gregor, and he had just enough time to turn around and revert to a fetal position before the party of crawlers trampled over him.

No—no, wait. Gregor opened his eyes. Legs coated the ground, but—were they all going _through_ him? Tick ambled up to him as a pair of crawlers her size walked through her when they should have knocked her over.

"Not sensed, we are, not sensed," she said as she nudged Gregor to get up. "Look around, look you."

Gregor stood, and glanced at the tunnel around him. Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, he followed the crawlers that had just run him over, and looked around at the stadium and the bats circling above it with a spreading smile on his face.

"Know you this place, know you?" Tick asked.

"Know it? Tick, I've been here!" Gregor stepped forward, and almost walked into himself. He stepped back and walked around the body to look at a version of himself from only a few years ago. Younger Gregor peeled his eyes off of the bats above him and held tighter to Boots—young, innocent Boots—who happened to spy one of her favorite toys.

"Ball!" she squealed as it fell from the sky, and she and younger Gregor ran off. The Gregor who came here with Tick, however, kept glancing around the entire stadium, and couldn't keep his smile hidden.

"I recognize all of them," he said to himself. "There's Mareth and Perdita, and their bonds, and there's Ares and Henry—oh, man, Henry's here—and Temp! Right next to—"

A flash of gold kept him from reaching for the roach, and instead he turned to see Luxa in her perfectly executed dive. It still left him speechless to see the ball land in her hand.

"Queen Luxa, there be, Queen Luxa," Tick said as if he hadn't seen.

"Yeah," Gregor said softly as his younger self watched Boots win the ball from the queen. Even back then, there had been something in Luxa that Gregor had ignored at first: beauty. And now, after what had seemed like an eternity, that beauty hit Gregor at full force.

He must have been observing her for some time, because now the roaches had left with five baskets of grain, and Vikus had arrived to take Gregor and Boots to Regalia.

"Done, we are here now, done," Tick said. Her glowing shell nudged itself under Gregor's hand.

"Wait, I want to—" Gregor's objection was cut off by another change of scene. He straightened, prepared to dodge something that wanted to walk through him, but it was only he and Tick, alone in a hallway in Regalia's palace. Once the coast was clear, Gregor turned on Tick.

"Why did we go there?" he asked. "We didn't even do anything."

"Do nothing, we do, do nothing. Watch you, watch. See contrast, see you." Tick nodded to a growing shadow against the wall, until a younger—yet slightly older—version of Gregor turned a corner, walked for a few feet, and then leaned against the wall and wept.

"Why am I crying?" older Gregor asked.

"Lost the princess, lost you."

Gregor studied himself, whose shoulders were trembling as he covered his face. So much had happened since Gregor had come to the Underland, and so much was to come… How could Gregor possibly appreciate the Underland, if it caused him this much sorrow?

And then both Gregors heard it. Boots, in the distance, sang her song about toes contentedly—blissfully, gleefully even—to the roaches. Gregor held his head higher as he watched himself straighten, wipe his eyes, stand up from the wall, and then began to run. Gregor and Tick hurried after and burst into the room just as younger Gregor swept Boots into an enveloping hug.

"Means much, she means, means much," Tick said softly.

Gregor cocked his head, examining the scene as if recovering a memory almost gone. Something—a feeling—settled in his gut, and it throbbed whenever he looked at his or Boots' faces.

"Hey, Tick?" Gregor said. The roach turned to him. "I know why you saved her life. But, thanks."

"Means much, she means, means much." Tick turned back to the princess. "Mean she much to you, mean she?"

"What? –Tick, she's my sister, I mean I love her more than—"

"Mean she really that much, mean she? How treat you her, treat you?"

"How treat you her…?" Gregor repeated, and then it hit him: if he could be this happy to find her alive, why couldn't he play with her when he knew she was safe? The afternoon at the park replayed in his mind; he could still remember her red cheeks and her tear-stained eyes when he had blown up at Howard. All that time, he hadn't been helping her by hiding the truth of their life from her. He'd been making her worry as much as him.

"A bond, have you," Tick said, "formed by Underland. Save you her life, save you. Save she your soul, save she. But lose you her, lose you, lose your soul, lose you."

"But I haven't lost her."

"Have you not, have you?"

Gregor's stomach sank. The good feeling disappeared, though his younger self and Boots were still smiling to each other in complete happiness. Gregor spoke, avoiding looking at anyone's faces.

"So what am I supposed to do? Go back to the Underland and let her try to get killed?"

"Wish the princess to, wish she?"

"Well…sure, she looked really glad to see Howard, but—"

"And wish the other princess, wish she?"

"How did you—what does Lizzie have to do with this?"

"Worries too, she does, worries too. Who calms her, calms she?"

"Ripred," Gregor answered before he realized what he'd said. With Lizzie's panic attacks, so few kids wanted to be with her, and as things got worse, even Jedidiah was slipping away from her. Only Ripred had really appreciated her, not to mention the code team, the princess-worshipping cockroaches, pretty much all of Gregor's friends…

"Are you going to show me anything else?" Gregor asked quietly. He didn't want to face this anymore.

Tick offered her glowing shell in response, and then they were in the midst of a sort of gleeful chaos. Around them, little kids danced in a circle, reciting the same poem:

"_Bat, bat, come under my hat…"_

There was Boots towards the edge of the circle, singing as if she'd known it all her life (which she probably had). Mom sat near the edge—Mom!—with a mountain of blankets, watching Boots with an amused smile growing by the minute. This was the last time Gregor could remember her looking so rested or content. And there were Hazard and Thalia—Thalia, still alive—by the food, laughing and talking and taking a break from the dance. They both kept looking towards a giant cake with Hazard's name on it.

"It's…it's Hazard's birthday party!" Gregor exclaimed, stepping out of the circle and through the kids without a care. "There's Dulcet over there, and Mareth and Perdita—Vikus!"

Vikus, not paralyzed and completely oblivious to Gregor, came to stand beside Mom and strike up a conversation. The torches around the High Hall reflected in his eyes, and from the joy that Gregor could see mingling with the light, it was clear that Vikus had arranged the party. He liked, and maybe even loved, seeing everyone enjoy themselves.

"A small thing, it be, small," Tick said.

"Small? Tick, this is huge! Look at Boots, look at Hazard and Thalia, and Mom!" He couldn't imagine them any happier, no matter how many times he'd seen them worse off.

"It be small, the effort, it be," Tick said. "Yet great, is their happiness, great."

Gregor looked around a second time. A table full of food. A few musicians who probably lived here anyways. Some decorations. It really was nothing much, and yet…

"Of course he will!" Mom's voice interrupted Gregor's thoughts, and he turned to see his younger self being thrust into the now half-empty dance floor, looking flushed and uneasy. He glanced to look at his mom, then to two figures beside her, before he started to dance—to Gregor's horror—the Hokey Pokey.

The two figures by Mom at first tried very hard to keep from snickering or smiling more than necessary. But when Boots leaped onto the dance floor and Hokey Pokeyed right along with Gregor, the two couldn't take it anymore. They cracked up laughing, and the taller one had to lean against Mom's chair for a moment to catch his breath.

Gregor—the older one—almost smiled along with them, until he realized that it was Howard and Luxa that were laughing so hard. He'd forgotten how much they'd enjoyed themselves at the party, how happy they'd been before reality crashed down and they'd gone out to find the—

No, he had to ignore it. Forget it. Still, as he watched Howard straighten himself, he felt something awful.

"What be that, be it, on your cheek?"

"Nothing, Tick." Gregor made like he was looking around for someone, and took the opportunity to wipe the tear away.

"Be there something wrong, there be," Tick insisted.

"No, it's really nothing, I swear. It's just…I wish I could say a word or two to them. That's all."

They grew silent then, just as younger Gregor let Boots take over the hokey pokey. He headed to a seat, only to be intercepted by Luxa. Gregor knew what she was there for: Hazard wanted them to dance. Gregor wanted to turn away, watch anything but that—if he could cry for Howard, what would he do about Luxa?—but Luxa herself kept him captivated. Though older, battle-scarred, and aged through the events she had faced so far, she couldn't have looked better at the moment. There was still a trace of her laughter on her lips, and Gregor didn't care that she'd been laughing at him. He almost envied himself for being able to be with her in the dance.

He blocked out the lyrics, and the music, and the people he would have recognized if he'd tried. Because before him, he and Luxa were dancing as if in a dream. They grew farther apart, and then closer as they danced their way through the circle of people, until finally they were partners again. Both younger and older Gregor looked at Luxa, and both suddenly saw her, right as a black and orange speckled bat dropped a golden crown to shatter their moment of bliss.

A hint of wind rustled through his hair, and then he and Tick stood in a room full of soldiers and battle plans.

"What the—? Hey!" He pulled his hand away from Tick's shell, right as she shied back from him. "Stop doing that! Didn't you see I was…never mind." He folded his arms and watched the scene in front of him, trying to ignore the fact that that dance wouldn't have lasted whether he stayed or not.

He recognized this as the war room, and from the looks of the heavily labeled maps and the weary soldiers, and Ripred and Solovet immersed in planning, this was right in the middle of the war with the Bane. His inference was only proven further when Solovet turned around from her maps, glanced once to Luxa (sitting off to the side with a fresh bandage on her head and a cough), and then asked the newly arrived younger Gregor how his back was.

"Why here?" older Gregor asked Tick.

"We be finished with the party, be we."

"Okay, but you could always, you know, take me home," he said, trying not to plead. So far every memory he'd visited had made him feel bad in some way, and if this was what he thought it was…

"Not finished, we are, not finished."

"Says who? You? We could always go wherever you want, find some nice memory with Boots in it—"

"Listen you, Overlander, listen. Watch you, watch."

Gregor sighed, and his eyes immediately flickered to Luxa. Her eyes were downcast and her arms folded in some sort of defeat, but her lips twitched in a smile that only Gregor could see. Well, Gregor and one other person.

"She's lying," the young Gregor blurted. Older Gregor turned away. He couldn't watch this. Not again.

"Why do you say this?" Solovet asked.

"Because I know her. If you want her to stay…" both Gregors gulped. "Lock her in the dungeon."

The guards reached for Luxa, and though she had begun to scream, it seemed as if the memory intensified so Gregor couldn't possibly ignore her words. And he couldn't take them. No, he couldn't hear her compare him to Henry, renounce her feelings for her, scream that she never should have trusted him…

"Get me out of here!" he said, and even he couldn't distinguish it from a growl or a cry. Tick nudged him, and then he had to duck. They were in a dark tunnel, with one shaft of light in front of them, spilling from a source like moonlight overheard. Gregor took his hands from his ears—he hadn't even known he was covering them—and crawled forward until he was underneath the light and could look up.

He was right, it was moonlight. But it was blocked by two bodies: Gregor's and Luxa's. Younger Gregor's face eclipsed the light, while Luxa's looked into it, but Gregor couldn't call his memory self younger anymore. He could see the new scars and the red, weary eyes, new to his face, and realized that they could only appear after the loss of Ares. A lump formed in his throat, and he almost thanked Tick that he didn't have to relive that, at the very least.

"Come and look, just for a second," Gregor offered Luxa. They both looked up, giving Gregor (the one watching the memory) a chance to examine Luxa's face. Moonlight made her skin glow translucently, almost as if she was one of the ghosts meant to save Gregor. He wished she was. The lump in his throat began to ache.

"This is where I will think of you," Luxa said to the Gregor beside her. "You know where I will be." They kissed—Gregor gasped longingly as he watched—and then Gregor climbed out of the hole. The boulder moved, sealing Gregor, Luxa, and Tick in a tomb.

Luxa climbed down and stood next to Gregor for a moment. She stared blankly into the distance, took a few tentative steps past Gregor, a few past Tick…and collapsed to her knees.

"Luxa!" Gregor cried, and ran over to her side. "Oh, Luxa…" She'd tried so hard to keep a straight face, but not it was as if the entire year had avalanched upon her. The tears streamed from her in a magnitude that Gregor might have seen once, if at all.

Gregor tried to hold her; he went through. He tried to kiss her head; he went through. He tried to touch her arm; he went through. "Luxa, listen to me." He tried to put his hands on her cheeks and make her look at him. "I love you, Luxa. Please tell me you heard that. I love you!"

"Not seen, we are, not seen," Tick said as she walked towards him. "Not heard, we are, not heard."

"No! No, make her hear me, she has to!" Gregor desperately tried to cling for her. He got one last glimpse of Luxa and her violet, tear-stained, beautiful eyes before Tick touched him and he was back in his room as if nothing had happened.

"Why did you show that to me?" he cried. "It wasn't a memory. I never saw it. So what, do you want to torture me, Tick?"

"I be spirit of Underland past, I be," Tick said meekly.

"Oh! Really!" Gregor kicked his closed door in response to that. He was far past caring that it hurt. "And why are you here? They could have picked someone that made sense! I don't care if you saved Boots. It sounds like _you_ could do a better job than me! How is this help? You want her? Take her!

"Oh, no, I'm going to keep her. She's all I have left! Just go away, Tick. Go away and leave me alone!"

Tick didn't budge. She sounded confused. "Why say the Overlander this, say you?"

"Because the last thing I need is to see things I've been trying to forget. I can't remember, Tick, not anymore, if it's going to hurt so much! Now leave me alone!"

Glancing around, he took the closest thing he could find and threw it at Tick. She promptly flickered and disappeared.

Gregor went on to kick his bedroom door repeatedly, trying to swallow the tears that he and Luxa and Boots and Howard and everyone else he knew had cried. He did this until he worked up an exhaustion and promptly collapsed onto his bed. One hand dangled over the side, and hardly a foot from it lay the item he'd thrown at Tick, casting a tiny yet unmistakable shadow on the floor. It was a small plastic bat, the one that Boots said looked just like Ares.

**Comments? Questions? Wagers as to who the Ghost of Underland Present will be?**


	3. Part Three

**I suppose before the story gets too climactic, I ought to mention that I'm basing this off of a mix of the original book, and the 2009 movie. Both are more similar to each other than other recreations, but they have differences, and so I mention them both.**

**An Underland Christmas Carol: Part 3**

The clock struck midnight beside him, but Gregor couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Another ghost was supposed to show up, and when it did, it could drag him out of bed kicking and screaming.

However, this ghost might be either late or lazy, seeing as it was now past twelve and nothing had changed. No warm or cold presence, no nudging, not even a change of—wait.

Gregor sat up, rubbing his eyes. The crack beneath the bedroom door spilled light across the floor, ten times more powerful than Tick's shell. Careful not to make a sound, he slipped out of bed and opened the door a crack.

"We don't have all night. Just get in!"

Gregor obeyed the booming voice, and slammed the door behind him. His hallway had been transformed into a gigantic room with a blazing fireplace across from him. To his right, a huge feast with all sorts of meats and fruit and pastries called to him, with an aroma that intensified the longer he stared. To his left, amidst a million bowls of shrimp and cream sauce, lounged a giant rat with a gruff voice and two scars over one eye in the shape of an "x".

"Ripred?" Gregor rubbed one eye, drawn between turning from the light and adjusting to it.

"Very good, warrior," Ripred said in a patronizing tone and stretched laboriously, knocking down a few bowls of scream sauce. "I was wondering if those chains of yours had decreased your IQ."

Gregor straightened and felt his chest. With no metal to be found, he relaxed and examined the giant rat in front of him. Ripred plucked a piece of shrimp from one of the dozens of bowls that surrounded him, dipped it in the bowl nearest to his paw, and popped it in his mouth at his leisure, never taking his eyes off of Gregor.

"Well, don't get so excited," he said when he had swallowed. "You don't have anything to say to your favorite Spirit of Underland Present?"

"Ripred?"

"What?"

"You're not dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to be? Go right ahead and finish the job, then. I'd hate to cause you inconvenience by breathing." He leaned back, daring Gregor to strike anywhere. When he didn't, Ripred smirked and stood up.

"We've got a lot to cover tonight, and I'd suggest we don't wait." He held out his claw to Gregor, who looked at it suspiciously, remembering the strife a certain cockroach's shell had caused him.

"Why are you here?" Gregor asked, avoiding the claw as if it was diseased.

"The same reason the brooding flier and the crawler were here."

"Yeah, but I'm not even sure I knew why they were here. And at least they were actually ghosts, that I knew. But what about you?"

"Are you still upset that I'm alive?"

"Not really upset, but—"

"Okay, never mind. Let me tell you something. There are things you're going to see, even things you've already seen, that aren't going to make sense until long after they've happened. That's when you're just going to have to go with it, and in the meantime, let me do my job. Believe it or not, I'm here to help."

Gregor sighed, nodded, and with some trace of reluctance, took Ripred's outstretched claw.

And suddenly, they flew down several floors, like an elevator flying down at twice its full speed. Once they had evaporated through the concrete laundry room floor and gotten close enough to the Underland ground, Ripred gave a sort of nod and they sped forward, past bats and humans, above gnawers and crawlers, until they had reached and passed the stone walls that marked Regalia.

On the outskirts of town, it looked to be nearly dinnertime, considering how the merchants took down their wares and closed down their shops. However, the ritual of closing was anything but solemn; family members found each other in the streets or visited their shops to help with closing. Children free from work or school—Gregor couldn't tell which—flooded the streets, running after each other or towards their waiting parents, or even to the owners of the shops to see if anything could be given away. There was quite a gathering around the butcher, who gave packages of meat to those with the currency and tossed scraps to those without. All the children clamored for a piece of meat, but it seemed more like a rather full party than a competition. Everyone laughed and patted the back of the person who got the meat, and about half of the winners split the gains with friends or siblings.

Across the street, a tailor packed up the spider silk he hadn't sold that day. When a child came up to him with ragged clothes, he discreetly gestured to the building behind him. At the doorway, a woman—his wife?—sewed holes in the clothing together, and appeared to charge nothing.

A few buildings over, a giant kitchen resided on the first floor of a building. Grain from the day's harvest flowed in by way of women who appeared to have harvested it, and yet more of those women were in the kitchen, slaving to bake bread, pour milk, and whip cream and cheese. Customers—children, mainly, and a few adults walking home—clamored around the door, anticipating what they had ordered. Everyone inside and out of the kitchen chirped away, talking and laughing and waiting until they could get home.

"Ah." Ripred breathed a deep sniff beside Gregor. "Makes you wish you could be part of it."

"I don't know, they seem to be doing okay without either of us," Gregor said, and then he paused. "I don't get it. Why are they giving half their stuff away for free?"

"Regalia isn't like the Overland, where people work for a profit. These people know and depend on each other. They actually want to help each other. They have to."

"Why? Is there a war?"

"You look at those faces and tell me there's a war. This is the present. And frankly, it came to be all because of people like you and me."

"What did we do?"

Ripred gave him an exasperated look. "Didn't you listen to a word Howard said? Or were you too busy pitying yourself to know that because you killed the Bane, all humans owe their lives to you? And don't even get me started on the other species, like the mice we have to relocate or the gnawers that still can't accept their defeat. Yes, you've left quite a mess, but you saved them all from something worse. And they want to thank you."

"By having me come back? After all I went through down here?"

"Would you stop thinking about yourself? There are people less lucky than these, and even though they know every bit about your pain, they still manage to be happier than you."

"Who are they?"

"I work with most of them," Ripred said with a huff, but Gregor could see a slight hint of a smile in his eyes. In what felt like a blink, they had reached the palace, and floated down to a small room with a large concentration of people. Most of them Gregor knew, and for a moment he couldn't speak. The last time he had seen them, they were so serious and war-torn, but now…

"Why is everyone so happy?" Gregor asked, only to be responded with a grunt. He followed Ripred's line of vision to realize that the rat was staring at…himself.

"_What_ are you doing?" he asked in disgust.

"I thought I was less groomed than that," Ripred said, and broke into a grin. "I didn't know I could be so handsome."

Gregor rolled his eyes. He was half surprised that Ripred hadn't thought himself more handsome than he really was. He scanned the audience that seemed to be waiting for something, reciting each name to himself in his head. Vikus, though still stiff on his right side, had really seemed to recover. Beside him, Euripides' gray fur had grown whiter with age, but he still seemed young as he grinned at a comment his bond, Vikus, had made. Gregor even recognized Queen Athena and the Fount cousins, and began to wonder just what sort of meeting this was if these people were in the same room.

Gregor's hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he turned to see Nerissa, sitting against the wall and draped in cloaks. She stared intently into his eyes, the first of anyone to do so.

Gregor glanced about. There didn't seem to be anyone else worth looking at around here. He turned to Nerissa, who had not looked away, and gave a small, hesitant wave. She nodded.

"Nerissa, you have come!" A voice called from behind him, and Luxa stepped from the crown to smile at her cousin. Relative to Aurora beside her, she had really grown taller, and something in her voice and her eyes reminded Gregor of a time after she had met Hazard and before she learned of the fate of the mice. She actually seemed happy.

"I dare not miss this, cousin," Nerissa said and stood up tentatively, "for fear of missing a joyous occasion in an otherwise hectic time. How fares the nibbler relocation?"

"It is well underway, and may soon be of no trouble to us." Luxa pushed up the golden band on her head. "But let us not discuss matters of business when we are here to celebrate."

"Ah, yes. It is a welcome reprieve, to leave my chambers. I thank you for the invitation."

"It was solely our cousin's doing, not mine, I am afraid."

"And speaking of cousins, where might Hazard be?"

Luxa frowned. "I thought he was here."

"I have not seen him."

"Excuse me, then." Luxa and Aurora looked into the crowd, and Luxa called, "Hazard!"

"Here I am!" A voice behind Gregor cried. Howard walked into the room, smiling and erect, with Nike at his side and Hazard in his arms. Howard delivered Hazard to Luxa, and the boy smiled at her.

"I saw the feast they have prepared for us," he whispered as the crowd fell silent and made way for Howard and Nike to walk through. "It looks incredible—" And then he coughed.

Luxa grinned slightly and pulled Hazard closer to her, and then all attention turned to Howard and Nike, who now stood in the front of the room and turned to face each other ceremoniously.

Howard joined his hand with Nike's claw and recited in a loud, clear tone:

"_Nike the flier, I bond to you.  
__Our life and death are one, we two.  
__In dark, in flame, in war, in strife,  
__I save you as I save my life._"

Nike returned, equally clear:

"_Howard the human, I bond to you.  
__Our life and death are one, we two.  
__In dark, in flame, in war, in strife,  
__I save you as I save my life._"

Their audience applauded, and Howard and Nike turned to face those they knew with wide smiles. Gregor blinked.

"They bonded?"

"What else would it be?" Ripred rolled his eyes.

Gregor paused, and then nodded with a smile tracing his face. Though he hadn't expected a real ceremony to be so simple and quick, he found he'd be glad for his friends even if they had done it amidst a battle.

Everyone in the room migrated down the hall to a larger room with a feast set for them, the centerpiece being a large and succulent bird of some sort. The humans especially marveled at its size, and even Ripred (the one not with Gregor) smiled a bit. Each attendant had a chair and a position at the table, with Howard and Nike at the head. Everyone sat and looked to the new bonds, no matter how much their mouths watered.

"Friends," Nike began, "family, we thank you for your support. Though times have been hard, the future appears promising, and Howard and I give thanks for your attendance as we vow to face what comes together."

Not a bad speech for a future queen, Gregor thought. Howard raised his glass.

"To the future," he toasted, "and to what it may bring. May Sandwich bless us with peace!"

Everyone repeated this toast, Hazard last of all. "Sandwich bless us, every one!" he said. They all laughed and made to drink.

"And to the past," a quiet voice added. The company turned to Nerissa, halfway down the table. "And to the warrior that brought us to today, and all beyond it." As she finished, her eyes met Gregor's, as he stood at the other head of the table.

People looked down at their empty plates. A sudden gloom cast over the room, a silence that cut into Gregor. Howard held up his cup once more. "To the warrior," he said with a hint of a smile.

"The warrior" chanted around the room, and everyone drank. For another minute, the only noise came from the dishes passed around and the snorts Ripred made as he ate. Gregor's heart sank. They had toasted him so formally, as if he had killed their moment. Were they upset because memories of him hurt them, just as memories of them hurt him? Or was it because they didn't care, and didn't want to?

Eventually, the room returned to its original cheer, and people chattered and laughed as they had before the bonding ceremony. Gregor tried to avoid Nerissa after that, and concentrated mainly on Luxa, and Hazard beside her. Whenever politics were mentioned, Luxa took to minding Hazard, who—Gregor now noticed—had skin that had grown much ashier since Gregor had last seen him, and had a cough that seemed to get worse by the minute.

"What's wrong with Hazard?" he asked Ripred.

"No one's quite sure. Howard thinks that as a Halflander who lived in the jungle, the lack of light is making him weaker. More suspect to disease."

"Can they do something?"

"If Howard is right, the only light strong enough to strengthen him is your sun. But Luxa wouldn't let him go to the Overland, even if she stopped spending so much energy believing the boy was fine."

"But why wouldn't she take him to the Overland?"

"She wants nothing to do with it. How well do you think she handled your memory after you left? Here's a hint. When Nerissa mentioned the warrior, she bent her metal fork."

"…Will they be okay, Ripred?"

"Luxa? She'll pull herself through, or I'll push her. Hazard? …If something doesn't change, that chair will be empty come next feast."

Gregor didn't leave Hazard's or Luxa's side throughout the rest of the feast. Towards the end, Howard and Nike held a short conversation in whispers, and then stood, excused themselves, and flew off. The party went on without them; the cheer in the room had long ago risen to unmanageable levels.

"They went to get you, you know," Ripred said as he watched Howard and Nike fly across the city and into the distance. "When Howard met you and Boots in the park? That was just after he and Nike had bonded."

Before Gregor could feel bad for what he'd said to Howard so soon after this, Ripred had taken his hand and flown with him to various corners across the Underland. To the gnawers' lands across the Waterway, where the gnawers rejoiced after receiving a new shipment of grain; to the fliers' lands, where the fliers celebrated their princess's bonding with an impressive flight display; to the crawlers' lands, where roaches held games in order to occupy themselves and the number of crawlers that normally fought in war.

"And to think that I did all this," Ripred smirked as they passed over a boat of spider's silk in the Waterway.

"You didn't," Gregor said.

"Of course I did! Didn't you see how many people were gathered together, and how they were celebrating? Normally they have half their numbers in their homeland and are worrying about a war. But because of Peacemakers like yours truly, and warriors like you, there's no problem around here. And look," he said as they arrived at a camp of nibblers near the Fount. "Even the ones who still suffer from war can be happy. That's more than you've done."

Gregor glanced over the nibblers, who acted as if their rations were feasts, as if they were glad to eat decent food in the company of their family. "And all these people are grateful to us."

"All of them. But they're not the only people you've affected." And with that, they rose through the stone cavern until they rested their feet in an apartment belonging to…Larry?

"Ripred, what are we…?" One look from the rat shut him up. Maybe he'd asked that question one time too many.

Larry and Angelina, together with Larry's parents, sat at the dining room table relaxing with pizza now that school was out for break. One extra chair sat between Larry and his mom.

As if suddenly sensing the missing presence in the chair beside her, Larry's mom asked, "So why couldn't Gregor make it?"

"He said he had to watch his sisters," Larry said.

"Well he could always take his sisters with him. Lord knows he needs a rest."

"We've tried that," Angelina told Larry's mom. "We've tried everything, but he still refuses. You know, I saw him at the school where one of his sisters goes, and he was sitting on the steps, taking off his socks, and giving them to his sister!"

"Really?" Larry's dad asked. "Did he say why?"

"He wouldn't answer when I asked. But I've met that sister before, and she's like a twig. In this season, she'd need some fat to keep from getting frostbite, but I don't even think they have enough food to have fat."

"Which is why we keep saying he should come with us," Larry added. "I feel sorry for him, him and his sisters. They're at least missing a good pizza."

Everyone at the table laughed, right as Ripred took Gregor out and above the streets—in broad daylight, for some reason—to a squat, colorful little building that Gregor walked Boots to every day.

"This happened this morning in daycare," Ripred explained, and gestured to a group of preschoolers sitting on the floor, watching one of their peers. The boy in front stood on one foot and waved his arms wildly.

"It's a bird!"

"No, it's a guy calling a taxi!"

"It's a guy slipping on ice!"

"Yeah!" The boy in the demonstration nodded to Boots, who clapped her hands as she realized she'd gotten it right. The kids in the audience poked at her with claims of "go up there" and "your turn, Boots!" Boots jumped into the stage, slumped her shoulders, and stared into space.

After a moment, one girl called, "Do it, Boots!"

"I am!"

Several guesses ensued, including a banana, a potato, a T.V, a guy watching T.V, a dog, a snail, a glass of milk, Amy's sleeping dad, a person at the zoo, trees, rocks, and a person reading fanfictions. Boots was so amused that her hands flew to her mouth to keep herself from giggling and breaking character. Finally, a little girl that Boots was fond of raised her hand.

"I know, Boots! It's your brother!"

"Yes!" Boots squealed, and the kids all laughed.

"Alright, I think that's about all the little warrior can take," Ripred said, and led Gregor out into the street. With each step, the sun sank until it was pitch black, as it ought to be. A bank with a digital clock outside flashed the time: 12:58.

"My time's nearly up," Ripred said. "Any questions?"

Gregor looked to the daycare, then to the clock, then to the rat. "Yeah," he said. "Why does everyone think I'm so bad? I didn't do anything."

"That's exactly why," Ripred huffed in return. "You want your sisters to be happy, but do you try to help them? You want to make peace with your thoughts of the Underland, but do you try? And don't even get me started on Luxa. You want to be part of those feasts and games? You have to earn it."

The digital clock near the bank flickered and then changed to 1 a.m. Gregor saw it, and then turned to Ripred. "Will you tell me how, before you—?" Too late, he realized. Ripred had disappeared.

Instead, to replace him, a dark shadow floated down the street to meet Gregor, shrouded in a hood of cold midnight black.

**Comments? Questions? Wagers as to who this ghost in black is? That will be revealed, I promise.**


	4. Part Four

**My thanks to Kizanna the Underland for her reviews, alerts, and favorites, and to Bob the unknown for his review! (By the way, Bob, I actually considered presenting the Bane as ghost of Underland future, but another idea occured to me as I began to write...)**

**An Underland Christmas Carol: Part 4**

Gregor trembled as he stepped forward to receive the ghost. While the phantoms that had visited earlier had at least had faces and features, this one draped itself entirely in black cloth. Its skeletal frame could still be seen, though the only thing outside the cloth was one hand, gloving so white and thinly that it looked like it was composed only of bones.

It stopped, and the hooded part that appeared to be a head faced Gregor. It chilled him to think that eyes lay behind the black void of cloth, watching his every move. It didn't appear to breathe, and frankly he didn't want it to. Any breath it could produce would leave no vapor in the December air, and would freeze him into a figure of solid ice in the middle of the empty street.

"So…are you the spirit of Underland future?" Gregor asked, wondering if Howard realized this was what he had been toasting to at the feast after his bonding ceremony.

The spirit said nothing.

"You're here to help me, right? I think you are. Everyone is who's come to me."

The spirit said nothing.

"So what are you going to do with me? Because I think we should get going. So…you know, lead the way."

The ghost stayed a little longer still, and then turned and glided into an alleyway. "Run you," Gregor heard Tick say decisively in his head, and followed the ghost. One minute they were in the darkest shadows of the alley—the next, in the presence of two guards in the Regalian palace.

"Are the rumors true? That the princess has returned to Regalia?" the first asked, almost hopeful for confirmation.

"She has," the second said. "She was escorted by a party of crawlers that found her landing on the ground near one of the entrances to the Overland. She has much luck, if the currents have favored her not only for her first arrival, but for this one as well."

"She has much luck if the crawlers can recognize her after so many years," the first guard said. "Had she any company?"

"None. She brought not even her possessions, as if she intends to restart her life completely."

"I would as well, if the rumors that accompanied her were also true. Something about a death, I hear?"

"Yes, and perhaps more than one," the second guard said. "Even if she has luck, her family never shared in it."

The guards walked off, still absorbed in their gossip about the princess that Gregor knew to be Boots. He ached to follow, but the spirit didn't, and so neither did he. However, the spirit didn't seem intent on doing anything else, as it stared after the guards.

"Hey…spirit?" Gregor didn't know what else to call it. "Are the rumors true?"

The spirit said nothing.

"Okay, but…who did they say died? Grandma? Dad? Someone I don't know?"

The spirit said nothing.

"Are you ever going to talk?"

The spirit's head turned to face Gregor's eyes, and suddenly the entire corridor of the castle chilled. Gregor turned away, and faced another scene unfolding in the throne room. This ghost's form of transportation was the subtlest he'd seen.

A door closed, but by the time Gregor had turned around, it was too late to see who had left. Luxa, sitting in a throne that was now likely all hers, stared through Gregor to the door that had just closed, sealing her inside. At about sixteen, permanent frown lines displayed themselves prominently on Luxa's face, and though her scars had faded some, bags etched themselves under her eyes. She did not fight anymore; she was the queen.

A gray-furred gnawer that Gregor hadn't seen standing there leaned against the throne. "I suppose, then, with the circumstances, you can't wait any longer," Ripred said, breaking the silence.

"I suppose not," Luxa said distantly, "after the death. Will you send for Nathaniel for me?"

"If I must," Ripred sighed, and with a slight creak in his bones he got up and went to the door.

"Ripred?" Luxa called, as if she couldn't wait any longer.

Ripred turned, his paw on the door handle. "Yes?"

"…Will I be doing the right thing?"

"It's what's best for the most people. I can't say anything more than that." Ripred opened the door with that, and wandered into the hall.

The door closed with a hollow echo. Luxa stared at it as she had before, and then with a sigh to compete with a dying breath, her head dropped into her hands. Her fingers massaged her temples, and she spent several minutes taking deep breaths. Gregor inched closer as he saw her lips move incoherently. From the looks of her, she was drawn between convincing herself of something and holding herself together.

The door opened, and Luxa stood up with a jolt. Gregor had to do a double take. When he'd heard about someone named Nathaniel, he'd expected a servant or something. Not this…this prince sort of guy.

"Luxa," he said warmly, and stepped forward. Gregor frowned at how he didn't appear to need to use her title; hardly anyone could be so casual with her. "How did your meeting with Boots the Overlander fare?"

"It was…interesting," Luxa said with a set face. "And it has convinced me of one thing."

"Oh?"

"Nathaniel…" she said, stepped closer, and looked into his eyes. "I will marry you."

Nathaniel's face split into a broad grin, and he closed the short distance between her and him with a powerful kiss.

"No!" Gregor cried, and reached his hand out to stop it, but found the scene whirling around him until he had stopped and stood in a now-vacant throne room. The ghost stood at his side, watching the door expectantly.

Still recovering from what he had experienced, Gregor was startled enough to jump when the door opened. His eyes widened, and then narrowed as he recognized Nathaniel slipping in with two cups on a tray.

"Who said you could marry—" Gregor punched the silver-haired man, but his fist slipped straight through. He was helpless to express himself as he watched Nathaniel step up to the thrones (now two of them) and set his tray down on the stone arm of one of them. The goblets rattled ever so slightly, sloshing with some sort of liquid that looked and smelled like a dark wine.

From a pocket in his extravagant clothes, Nathaniel produced a tiny glass vial full of dried leaves. Uncorking the vial no bigger than his thumb, he tipped it and poured all the contents into one goblet. He set that one on Luxa's throne, and the untainted one on the throne that must be meant for him.

Nathaniel stood back with the tray to survey his work and sighed. "I apologize, Luxa," he whispered, "but I must be the only ruler." And then he fled.

Gregor watched the traitor with an open mouth as he slammed the door. Gregor turned to the ghost.

"He's…he's going to kill Luxa."

The ghost inclined its head slightly.

"And…it's because of this death. Why Luxa decided to marry this guy. And why Boots came back here. Is there anyone actually mourning?"

The spirit lifted its one skeletal hand to the door. Tentatively, Gregor opened it, and found another feast waiting just across the hallway. As he stepped into the grand room, he discovered that the two spots at the head of the table were empty. Judging by the formal attire, the gifts piled up the corner, and the high-class people and distinguished representatives, Gregor realized what this feast was in honor of, and wished that those two empty seats at the head of the table would fill up as quickly as possible. Even if he had to see Luxa in a wedding dress, kissing her murderer.

His attention was drawn to a small group of people in the corner, talking in hushed tones. Among them were Howard, Nike, and Vikus, to whom Gregor paid the most attention.

"Is it not fortunate that Luxa has chosen a husband?" Nike asked. "The fliers, at least, feel relief that human reign will remain strong."

"That may be so, but the occasion would have more joy if…" Vikus trailed off, glancing at Howard. "But as you have said at your bonding ceremony, our future appears promising. I can think of many suitors that would fail in leading the Underland into it. Between Nathaniel and Luxa, we will fare well."

"And Luxa finds no joy in this?" Nike asked.

"She claims she does. I would not push her too hard to emote as of now," Vikus said gently, "for she has much to handle on top of her wedding and the arrival of Boots—"

"You may say it, Vikus," Howard cut in. "It is Luxa we are concerned about, not me."

"What do you mean, Howard?"

"You avoid the unfortunate occasion that fell directly after her crowning ceremony," Howard said, and began to blink tremendously.

"Howard, it is of no need for you to mention this," Nike said gently.

"No, Nike. I can face it. I must, now, in order to be happy for Luxa. So I will say now that Hazard has—he is dead." Throughout his small monologue, Howard had inched closer to a mourning that now swallowed him whole. He buried his eyes into his elbow and sobbed, with Nike and Vikus patting him and comforting as best they could.

"It was not you, nor me, nor anyone that has caused his death," Nike said.

"I knew!" Howard sniffed. "I knew his trouble, and I did nothing! We could not send him to the Overland, not until he was past sending… Oh, if I could see him once more, if Luxa could…"

"Excuse us," Nike said to the group of people that now faced them curiously, and led Howard out of the room. Vikus looked into the drink he held as if in thought, and as he closed his eyes, a tear landed in his drink, causing miniscule ripples.

Gregor looked away, and found himself looking into the spirit's hooded face. He looked at his feet; they seemed to be the happiest thing he could find, and even then, his shoes were gray and ratty.

"I knew this would happen," he said quietly, "but there was another death. Doesn't anyone care about that one?"

He and the spirit rose, past the wedding guests and through the roofs, to the Overland. There, he encountered a sight he'd seen too many times for his liking: his mom, sitting silently at the kitchen table late at night. Except that she wasn't tracing patterns on the table, like she used to. She was moving her hands over a small plastic bat, the one that Boots said looked like Ares. A note with a pin lay on the table beside her—Gregor guessed it had been pinned on the bat—read in scrawled writing: "_found in hand at the scene of the crime._"

"Mom?" a voice squeaked. Mom pulled the plastic bat from the table and onto her lap as Lizzie came out of the shadows.

"Are you okay, honey?" Mom asked.

"I couldn't sleep," Lizzie said, and sat at the chair closest to Mom. "What's going to happen from here, Mom?"

"Why would you want to worry about that?"

"I…I just want to know it's real."

Mom sighed. "Tomorrow, we're going to move all our things to Mrs. Cormaci's. For the next few days, you and she are going to pack up and ship everything to our new apartment. We'll visit Dad and Grandma every day, when I get off from work. Then we'll move."

"When will we have the funeral?"

"I don't know, sweetie."

"Are we going to have one?"

Mom bit her lip. "Lizzie, you have to understand—"

"A-and what about looking for Boots?"

"If I could, I would, but—"

"Mom!" A tear slipped from Lizzie's cheek. "Maybe this is why all this happened, Mom. You—you act like you don't even miss them!"

"Lizzie!" Mom's voice broke, right as Lizzie burst into tears.

"We're j-just going to move aw-way… How can B-boots find us again? S-she's got to c-come back—and i-if things weren't s-so bad, there wouldn't have b-been the s-suicide…"

Lizzie's hiccupping crossed the line to hyperventilation. Mom stood from her chair, got on her knees, and hugged Lizzie, trying to rock her and stroke her hair even though she was beyond consolation. The bat that Mom had held on her lap fell underneath the table, swept under the rug as it were. Just as Mom had been trying to conceal a certain awful death.

"Spirit?" Gregor asked. "Where…where am I in all this? Why haven't I seen myself in the Underland or the Overland?"

The spirit cloaked in black pointed out the kitchen, and then floated down the hall. Gregor followed, and stuffed his hands in his pockets to avoid touching an apartment that no longer felt like home. Everything he saw looked so gray and worn, and every room he passed felt so haunted—not including Gregor's and the ghost's presence.

The ghost stopped at the end of the hall and pointed to the closed door that Gregor knew to be his. He almost felt a sense of relief; he must still be here, if not participating in any of this. His hands grasped for the handle as he made a rushed prediction as to what he would look like in the next few years, and opened to see—

Nothing. His bed was perfectly made, none of his stuff was touched…the only difference was that his window was open.

Gregor looked at the ghost behind him, whose position had remained unchanged, its bony finger pointed out the window. Gregor stepped closer, shivering as a rush of wind greeted him, and saw a thick rope tied to a leg of his bed. It trailed out the window and down, and so Gregor stuck his head out and looked down. Swaying in the winter wind and spotlighted by the streetlights dangled a thick, study noose.

Gregor leaped from the window and almost fell onto his back, unable to breathe. "Spirit!" he said, "who died? Tell me!"

His bedroom whirled around him, and he regained his footing in a patch of land, off the coast of Long Island. An old iron gate surrounded the enclosure, and beyond it, buildings soared and cars zoomed with no care for the fact that in here, this was a cemetery.

In the cold twilight air, the ghost still stood, pointing towards a single tombstone set apart from all the others, alone.

"Is this the person?" Gregor asked, feeling as if his feet were cemented to the grass. "This is the person that made Lizzie so upset, and made Boots go back to the Underland? This is the person who was the reason why Hazard couldn't go to the Overland, and why Luxa had to marry that…?"

The spirit said nothing.

Slowly, hesitantly, Gregor stepped to the tombstone, small and gray and on the very edge of the cemetery. The ghost pointed down, gesturing for Gregor to read it. He kneeled down to better see the etching on the stone, and came face to face with his own name.

"No!" he cried and backed into the spirit's surprisingly solid legs behind him. He turned to face the ghost pleadingly, on his knees. "Tell me I didn't hang myself! Tell me I didn't make my family so miserable, and that the Underland doesn't need to miss me! Say you got it wrong!"

At this, the ghost raised its one ivory hand, and pulled off the hood in one smooth motion. Staring down at him, without doubt or remorse in her face, was Nerissa.

Gregor's breath left him. Nerissa was never wrong. "Say I can change it, Nerissa," he breathed, and clung onto her white hand pleadingly. "I know I can't change the past, and what happens to me now, but I'll change, I'll try, just like Ripred said I should. I swear, Nerissa, I'll put the past behind me, and I'll face my problems, and I'll keep my friends, and…I'll go back to the Underland! Because they want me, they need me—I need them! Just say it can change, Nerissa. Say I'll have my friends, and not my chains!"

His hand squeezed hers, and she pulled for him to let go. Her face changed to neither anger, nor pity, nor cheer, for she seemed to have no mercy. At least, she broke her hand free and pushed him back, far back, until his head hit his tombstone and he lay unconscious on his grave.

**Comments? Questions? Any words to me for making Gregor commit suicide?**


	5. Part Five

**My thanks to Kizanna the Underlander for her review!**

**I feel I should warn that Nerissa may be sort of confusing in this chapter. For the record, what she says is my personal opinion, and I welcome another.**

**An Underland Christmas Carol: Part Five**

Gregor awoke with a start, and took a moment to realize he was lying on the steps that led to the laundry room. Oh, what a long time it felt like since he'd been here, when Ares had shown up in his shadow form on the door, to follow Gregor to his apartment and warm him…

But he was alive! He sat up, ignoring the rush of blood from his head, and felt his chest. No chains. He stood up. Nothing rattled. His coat still smothered him, his boots were still caked in fresh snow…hardly anything had changed. Except him! Because Gregor was alive, more alive than since before he left the Underland—oh, yes, he still remembered the Underland, and he wanted to. Most of his best friends were there, and he wasn't going to leave them again. And Hazard was going to come to the Overland, and Boots was going to see the crawlers again, and Howard wasn't going to cry again, and Luxa was going to—

"What are you doing?"

A young boy from his apartment complex had wandered in from the elevator, and found Gregor doing some sort of dance in snow clothes with wet cheeks—because he'd been crying, he realized, when he'd pleaded with Nerissa—and a smile to lighten up the entire Underland.

Gregor stopped his dance, but didn't feel sheepish in the least. He'd gotten past being embarrassed about the Hokey Pokey. "Hi, you! What day is it?"

"Two days 'til Christmas…?"

Gregor chuckled. That was the day when he'd met Howard. It must not have even gotten dark yet, if this boy was still here and awake. Maybe he could still catch Howard! Oh, he hoped so…

"Hey, you haven't seen my sister around, have you?" he asked the boy. "Or this really tall guy with see-through skin and purple eyes?"

"Yeah, they both showed up about half an hour ago. I think they went up to your apartment."

There _was_ still time. "Okay, thanks!" Gregor called behind him, for he had started up the stairs the moment he heard "apartment." He grinned to himself as he climbed as fast as his boots would let him, climbed until his cheeks were red and he had a stitch in his side…until he was at the door to his apartment. He peeled off his hole-covered gloves, fumbled for the key, and ran straight into the living room.

"Boots!" he cried and scooped her up from her spot on the floor amidst dozens on multi-colored frogs. "Boots, what have you been doing?"

"I showed Howard what the jungle was—" She was interrupted when Gregor kissed her cheek. She couldn't help but giggle.

"I'm sorry I yelled," he said, "but guess what? We're going to the Underland!"

Boots squealed, and kissed his cheek right back. Howard, who had been slumped on the couch with a rather nasty sunburn, straightened to look at Gregor oddly.

"You have suddenly agreed?" he asked, drawn between suspicion and amusement.

"Let's just say I had a change of heart," Gregor said with a grin.

He told Boots to go get anything she wanted to bring, and she promptly ran off to her room to put on her new pants. Gregor went off too, to shrug off his snow clothes. But before he came to meet Howard and Boots in the hallway, he took the plastic bat—the one that Boots said looked like Ares—and hugged it close to his chest.

Once out, he scribbled a note for Mom and Lizzie (who, like him, had gotten a job from Mrs. Cormaci):

"_Boots and I went to the Underland. Meet us in the laundry room at midnight._"

"What do you mean by that?" Howard asked. "Surely you meant to stay a little longer?"

Gregor smiled to himself, because the truth was, he did.

He, Howard, and Boots found themselves euphoric all the way to the park. Gregor pretended to be surprised when Howard revealed his bonding with Nike, and offered his congratulations. Boots, upon hearing that Temp and Hazard had been present at the feast, asked if everyone was still there. To Gregor's great relief, they were.

Nike, who had been patient for quite some time, greeted Gregor and Boots warmly, and flew them off and over the Waterway with Howard. Gregor's smile grew a little larger and softer at the same time as he remembered flying over this same stretch with Ripred, who was then the spirit of Underland present. With some flying lessons, Ripred might become very good at the haunting business.

Nike reached Regalia, and Gregor found the exact scenes he'd witnessed with Ripred going on beneath them: the kitchens, the butcher tossing out scraps, the tailor fixing clothes for free. And then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone, behind him as he soared towards the palace.

Nike swerved in and dove for the very window that she and Howard had left through. The feast done, the only thing to do was to talk and play games and wait for the new bonds to reappear. This is exactly what they did, only with two passengers whose appearances froze everything in the room.

Gregor couldn't help but falter a bit, though his grin never left him; after being completely ignored at this very same party, so many eyes upon him could be very disorienting. As always, the one to break the spell over the room was Boots. "Hi, you!" she squealed, and literally tackled Temp so that his six legs dangled in the air with Boots on his stomach.

First Gregor chuckled. Howard and Nike followed suit, as Temp tried to roll over without harming the princess. And then everyone was laughing, and the guests all came forward to pat him on the back or shake his hand.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," was the first gruff welcome he received. But even Ripred couldn't keep a hint of a smile away as he reached his paw for Gregor's hand.

"Ripred, you're not dead!" Gregor said and clasped his paw warmly.

"Neither are you. Give me some credit." Ripred rolled his eyes, to keep from looking confused.

"I would tell you that we needed to find some new clothes for you before the gnawers found your scent," Vikus said from behind Mareth as the Underlander gave Gregor a bear-hug, "but I have never been more pleased to say that this is not necessary."

"It's about time." Gregor smiled back. "You're looking great, Vikus."

The entire party gave him greetings, though it could be said that his friends from his quests might be happier to see him than the Fount cousins. Gregor had gone through almost everyone when he found Nerissa, sitting in the corner. He approached her after delegating Boots to speak with a few fliers that had come to see him.

"You are real this time, are you not?" Nerissa asked before he could say anything.

"I thought you of all people would know that," Gregor said. "So, spirit of Underland future, huh?"

"It is a post I take up rarely, but with honor." Nerissa smiled slightly. "Ripred remembers nothing, you know. Tick is far gone from us, and Ares…let us say he may fly now, after what you have undergone."

"Yeah, but how did they all reach me? I thought you guys didn't believe in ghosts, or something that happens after you die. And why did all this happen on the day Howard and Nike decided to come get me? Nerissa," he asked for lack of a better question, "what just happened there?"

"There is one question you neglect to ask, Gregor, and it is the one that burns at you most. And so I will answer that, and nothing more. You of all people have been haunted—or chosen, or saved—because you are the Underland. You alone embody everything we hold dear, and through you and no other may we prosper in the future. There is a force that I, for one, believe to be Sandwich, though my opinion is one of thousands. This force recognizes you and your importance, and this force has driven you to realize this through those you know or love."

"But…I never realized anything."

"Did you not? Imagine. Your family is made of those you protect. Your friends are those who you would risk all for, and those who would return the favor. Your enemies are those who you must no longer call enemies if you are to make peace with them. And your love embodies all you hope for and want in the time to come. Compare yourself to the Underland, Gregor. By now, you are one and the same.

"Oh, and as we speak of love…" Nerissa motioned for Gregor to turn around. Hazard, sickly but still joyful, came forward with his hand slipped in Luxa's. Luxa followed somewhat unwillingly, but when her eyes met Gregor's…let's say that Hazard did not have to hold her hand anymore.

The room continued to talk, too distracted by Gregor's arrival to actually notice Gregor. Not that he minded. He only had eyes for the girl in front of him.

"Gregor?" Luxa said softly and stepped forward. "Why have you—"

Gregor stepped forward and cut Luxa off with a kiss, neither powerful nor fragile, nor fiercely, nor to quiet her. Just to have her.

"I figured it out, Luxa," he whispered when they had pulled apart. "I have to be here. I need to."

"I wish that was true," she said.

"It is. I mean, it took me until now to figure it out, but I _know_—"

She silenced him with a peck on the lips. Her eyes now looked as if they were laughing and about to cry at the same time. "Perhaps, then, we should explain that to the others. Let us start with Howard." She smirked and glanced to her cousin, who had broken away from the people who wanted to see his rather horrible Overland sunburn. He'd seen everything. His eyes had first narrowed at Gregor when he looked at him, and then relaxed. Howard's mouth opened, closed, opened and closed again. He looked halfway to defeat already.

"I don't think it'll be too hard." Gregor grinned. "He was the one who asked me to come, anyways." He slipped his hand into Luxa's, and together they walked to meet with the rest of the party.

"Oh, and Gregor?" Luxa said. "Why were you speaking with Nerissa?"

Gregor chuckled slightly and squeezed her hand. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

Gregor was at home in five minutes, chatting and telling stories and watching Boots play games. He almost forgot about his midnight meeting with Mom and Lizzie, and so practically leaped onto Nike with Boots once Howard reminded him.

"Do you mind waiting a little, Nike?" he asked as she brought them to the grate that led to the laundry room.

"No more than I did before," she responded and helped them in so that they tumbled to face Mom and Lizzie.

"Gregor!" Mom stood up abruptly. "Gregor, you have some explaining to do. What were you _thinking_ going back there, after all the warnings I gave you? You could have at least given me some warning or a decent reason, and to top it all off you're _late_—"

"She's been waiting since eleven," Lizzie said. Apart from looking anywhere near distraught, she looked…excited? "So how was it?"

"They're at war again," Gregor said in his normal low voice. He looked down. "Everyone's so stressed, fighting the rats—and they all look like they're after Ripred—and there are troops all around Regalia…"

"And there are spider babies," Boots said, catching on. "Really big spider babies at Temp's house."

"Yeah, the giant scorpions are invading the crawlers' lands. And the spiders look like they're going to join with the rats, and if that happens…"

"…I'm sorry, Gregor," Mom said gently. "But now you know why I can't have you there, and especially not Boots."

"Yeah. I know. Which is why…" Gregor gave a sigh as near as he could fake one, and then lost control of himself. He and Boots began to laugh. "We're going back, Mom!"

"_Excuse_ me? Gregor—"

"Mom, it's okay, everything's okay. Ripred's fine, he's doing a great job as Peacemaker. Everyone's good—in fact, they're really good because Howard and Nike just bonded. And they had a lot of different species there, and everything's just really okay, Mom."

Mom, still realizing that two of her children were laughing and that the third one had joined in, needed much less convincing than Gregor had thought to let them spend the night. Even Lizzie was somewhat eager to ride a giant bat, if only to run into Ripred's arms.

Over time, Luxa gave them a share of her apartments, and they spent the winter break in the Underland. With the palace taking care of her children, Mom was able to quit one of her jobs and concentrate on the hospital bills. Dad slowly got better, and began to visit the kids in the Underland along with Mom. It was Grandma that kept everyone in the Overland, as she faded slowly. The entire family came up to see her when they heard she was dying. To the surprise and secret joy of everyone, she told them to go on without her, to do the one thing that made them all happy.

And that was that. Once the funeral was over with, they sold their belongings, Mom quit her jobs, and Gregor, Lizzie, and Boots left school. They acted as if they were moving (to California, "to go back to Dad's house"), complete with full goodbyes from everyone they knew. And then they descended.

Many events came to pass in the following years, but only one thing led them to the Overland again. Howard—who had been rather surprised that Gregor agreed so fully with his diagnosis—prescribed Hazard one hour in the sunlight of the Overland, to strengthen him. And in this future, Luxa agreed. She and Gregor went to the Overland together with Hazard, and secretly they all hoped to have one slice of the "pizza" Gregor praised.

All these years later, Gregor had still maintained his cheer and his lessons. But the memories of that dream, that haunting, rushed back to him at full force in one blink, as he found himself staring at his former bond beside them, still in the form of a ghost. Gregor smiled slightly at the glimmer of black wings that gave him a silent farewell—black wings that only he could see, black wings that passed them all and soared up into the light.

**The End**

**I suppose I ought to reveal, everyone, that this fanfiction is actually an edited version of my Christmas gift for my good friend, Demi (who will gain the handwritten chapters when I next see her). Merry Christmas, Demi! And merry Christmas to you all.**


	6. BONUS: How the Bane Stole Nibblers

**Oh, it's the holiday season, I just could not resist! The themes here are rather awful, but then, it was that way in the book. I deviated from the book in a few ways, if you will forgive me there. I call this a theory as to the motives of the Bane, expressed through Dr. Seuss's "How the Grinch Stole Christmas". Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: The Underland Chronicles is not mine. "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" is not mine. And believe it or not, I did not invent the term "meece". Such a term can be found in the fanfiction "Heaven or Hell", a story I highly recommend.**

**And speaking of stories, would anyone happen to know where "400 Things Not to Do in the Underland" went? I miss that horribly...**

**How the Bane Stole Nibblers**

All the humans  
In Regalia  
Liked nibblers a lot,

But the Bane,  
Who lived far from Regalia,  
Did not.

The Bane hated nibblers! To rats, they were treason!  
The Bane hated them most. No one quite knows the reason.  
It could be that his parents both died in a fight.  
It could be that Ripred was mean and uptight.  
But the most likely reason of all  
Could be that his brain was five sizes too small.

But  
Whatever the reason,  
His parents or brain,  
He stood in his cave, saying "They call _me_ Bane!"  
Staring down from his cave with a sour Bane frown,  
Watching all of the gnawers, just hanging around.  
And he knew all the nibblers across Underland  
Were plotting a scheme that would need human hands.

"Are they done with their plotting?" he growled and he leered.  
"Tomorrow they'll kill us. They're practically here!"  
And he growled, and he grumbled, so furiously pacing.  
"I've got to save us, or it's mice we'll be facing!"

For  
Tomorrow, he knew…

All the nibblers so small  
Would wake bright and early. And then they'd all call,  
They would call for their parents, their families, their friends!  
That's what the Bane hated. Would it END, END, END, END?

Then the nibblers, together, would sit down and eat.  
And they'd eat! And they'd eat!  
And they'd eat  
Eat  
Eat  
Eat!  
They'd dine on their rations, their grains, and their beasts.  
And the young would be fed (Bane called these babies "meece".)

And then  
They'd do something  
He liked least of all.  
They would all get together, the tall and the small,  
They'd sit close together, their fur ever fraying,  
And the tall and the small, they'd begin to start playing!

They'd play! And they'd play!  
And they'd play! Play! Play! Play!  
And the more the Bane thought of the families that played,  
The more he thought, "No they can't! Not today!  
All my life I've watched them be content until now.  
I can't watch! I must stop it! …But _how?_"

Then he got an idea.  
An _awful_ idea.  
The Bane got a wonderful, awful idea.

"I know _just_ what to do!" The Bane cackled with glee.  
Then he called to the gnawers, "Hey, listen to me!  
Aren't you sick of the nibblers? They gave us the plague!  
There's got to be something we never forgave…"

"I need a speechmaker."  
The Bane looked around.  
But since smart rats are scarce, only one could be found.  
Did she jump for the chance?  
Yes! She came up and said,  
"You be my mouth, Bane, and I'll be your head."  
She called herself Twirltongue. Her eyes flashed bright red,  
But the Bane didn't know to pick someone instead.

So  
He gathered some rats  
And called them to arms  
And promised good reasons  
To do nibblers harm.

Then the Bane said, "Let's go!"  
And the army got up  
To kill all the nibblers,  
The adults and the pups.

The jungle was light, but snores hung in the air.  
All the nibblers dreamed sweet dreams without care  
When the gnawers showed up with sweat coating their hair.  
"This is stop number one," the Bane told all his troops  
And sent them away to pillage and loot.

So he charged forth his army, still young and untrained  
But never to lose, were they led by the Bane.  
He looked 'round the caves for a moment or two  
And then gave a roar, so that nibbler fur flew.  
The small nibbler army stood up in a row.  
"These warriors," he thought, "are the first things to go."

Then he battled and bashed, though it wasn't attractive.  
In the end, we shall say, he took every mouse captive.  
Old ones! And young ones! Warriors! Pups!  
And little newborns that had hardly grown fluff.  
(The Bane kept these close to him, chuckling with glee,  
Though the newborns would cry for their own family.)

Then he marched them all off. He took all their feasts,  
All their rations and grains and their edible beasts.  
He made them all walk for miles upon feet  
That made them too tired to play or to eat.

He led them down a slope, and he chuckled with glee.  
"And now you may kill, troops, but save some for me."

After the murders, his troops came together,  
And the Bane spelled his plan out, right down to the letter.  
He wrapped up his speech, and he thanked that Twirltongue,  
When he saw such a sight that made him near dumb.

The Bane had been caught by the humans' young queen,  
Her face angrier than Bane ever had seen.  
She glared to the Bane, yelling, "Evil Bane, why?  
Why are you killing my nibbler friends? _Why?_"

But you know, that old Bane knew just how to speak,  
For Twirltongue had taught how to make humans weak.  
"Why, my sweet little dear," the white giant rat lied,  
"The nibblers are evil, yet you still take their side.  
They brewed up the plague, and they caused all our strife.  
They must make no return, and so they lose their life."

His words didn't fool, not the young human queen,  
But the rats chased her off, before she got keen.  
And the Bane thought to himself, "Though the queen can't persist,  
The humans should really be next on my list."

But because he had started, he still had to end  
The string of the murders of all the queen's friends,  
Certain the young queen could not take revenge.

And the one speck of nibbler existence he had  
Was a mouse named Cartesian (who was now raving mad).

Then he did the same thing—  
Ran the nibblers off-grounds—  
And yet all he tried, there were more to be found.

He was one quarter done,  
All the nibblers in fear,  
All the humans upset,  
When he packed up his troops  
Packed them up and moved them—the newly trained men—  
To see that this queen thing won't happen again.

Many miles away—through a cave, Hades' Hall—  
He ran with his fans, saying "We'll show them all!  
We'll show all the humans! We'll show them indeed!  
It's the nibblers they hate! It's my word they should heed!  
They'll come out of their walls, just a moment or two,  
And then they'll all thank us, for all that we do.

"That's a noise," grinned the Bane,  
"That we all must soon hear."  
So he stood straight and tall, and he perked up an ear.  
And he did hear a sound, from the stone walls nearby,  
But it wasn't quite right—like a mad battle cry!

Oh, that sound wasn't glad!  
Why, it sounded like war!  
And the Bane felt a fear  
That he hadn't before.

He stared at the wall  
And knew one time he'd seen  
A black bat with a human,  
The friend of the queen!

Twirltongue knew this human, when Bane was a pup.  
This human appeared and he chopped Bane's mom up!  
(Twirltongue made this up, since she knew Bane was dense,  
But with his death-filled past, at least this lie made sense.)

And so the Bane fought, fought the boy with his paws.  
But before he left battle, a sight made him pause,  
Something that filled him with unexplained glee:  
A nibbler that battled, outnumbered by three.  
Bane looked once again. There were two nibblers! Four!  
No matter what happened, there'd always be more.  
And oddly enough, he was warmed to the core.  
He _liked_ nibblers somehow; he hated no more.

And what happened _then?  
_Though his body might fight,  
The Bane's tiny brain  
Grew five sizes more bright.  
He'd been _jealous_ of nibblers! Their fun and their wit!  
He wanted their love! He had no part of it!

But while thinking, he died—and though blood drenched his fleece,  
In death…  
_He himself_…  
The Bane got to pet meece.

**Merry Christmas, everyone!**


End file.
